


The 6 Train

by Gairid



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: Lestat and Brian have a night on the town.





	The 6 Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Burnadette_dpdl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burnadette_dpdl/gifts).



> The lovely and talented Burnadette de Pointe du Lac very kindly comissioned a drawing of Lestat and my ~~son~~ OC Brian Callahan for my birthday. Here follows the events leading up to what happed before and after the moment captured in the drawing.
> 
> The drawing by @lousysharkbutt can be seen here: https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/158719592634/VK4BVTEG

**(Brian)**

“Oh, come on! Look, it’s only a couple blocks back.” Lestat held up his phone as though I could actually read what he was looking at. “One more drink each and we’ll go. I promise!” His smile was incandescent, his eyes wide and innocent. Like that was going to fool me. I glanced at my watch and willed the face into focus. There was time yet, but Lestat’s idea of one more drink could easily mean I would be dealing with a swoony vampire as well as a tipsy one. He took my hesitation as acquiescence and hooked his arm through mine. I stopped short and he looked at me again, eyes widening further.

“A little drink, right? No end-of-the-evening slaughter. No giant biker.”

He scoffed at me. “No bikers at these bars, or had you not noticed?”

“That’s not an answer.” I said as implacably as I could manage what with him hip to hip with me and his pale hair brushing my cheek. We were at the edge of Tompkins Square Park near the tennis courts.

“Oh, all right. No slaughter. No giant anyone. Just a little drink,” he said airily. “It’s not yet 2--we’ll be back well before dawn, darling. No fear of Louis roasting you. Or roasting me, come to that!” He laughed and we turned to head back down Avenue A toward St. Mark’ Place. He wanted to go to a place called Please Don’t Tell, a bar where you went in through a 1920’s style secret speakeasy entrance; a phone booth by the hot dog joint next door. 

A little under over hour later we swung onto the train with a few other revelers. I took the seat near the door and Lestat, wibbly from blood and probably Ecstasy, deposited himself into my lap with his shoulders and head propped up by the divide and his legs over the rail by the door. To say I was delighted was deeply understating the situation. Delirious was closer. He closed his eyes and began singing to himself.

He’d lost his shirt sometime during the evening and wore only his red regimental-looking jacket and black jeans. I was inebriated enough to have lost any sort of inhibition and I splayed my right hand over his bare chest. The movement drew a smile from him. “Which bar was playing all the 80’s music?” he asked, eyes still closed.

“You mean where we heard one of your songs?”

He cracked an eye open. “Yes, now that you mention it.”

“The Pyramid Club. Dark. Fog machine. People of indeterminate age making out in the dark corners, spazzy on overcut cocaine.”

“Oh, right,” he nodded and began singing again --- “ _Out on the streets, that's where we'll meet ... You'd put an arrow through my heart _.”__

__I lifted an eyebrow. “Ratt? Really?”_ _

__“Hey! I hung out with those guys a couple times. Steve Pearcey. Warren something or other. ”_ _

__“Get out,” I scoffed._ _

__“You never believe me. There’s a box of photos someplace--Louis can tell you where it is. Remind me to show you all the people I can name drop,” he said with a smug little grin. The train slowed and he shifted, snugging his hip tight against my crotch. “How’s that? Feel okay?_ _

__“Jesus,” I muttered. He quirked an eyebrow in question and I only nodded because at that moment it was all I was capable of. He was enjoying himself hugely._ _

__Some people got on at 33rd, moving through the car to take seats—all except for three men wearing power suits, out after a day toiling among the hedge funds. Gym rats in their spare time by the look of them. They stood in a row before us, vascular and bulging in their expensive suits wearing the unmistakable air of entitlement, superiority and way too much booze at the strip club._ _

__I recognized the look on their faces--somewhere in the wide vicinity of ‘hell yeah, gonna kick some faggot ass tonight” and a sudden jolt of adrenaline branched through me, quickly changing to a sort of anticipatory trepidation. It wasn’t the first time in my life I was confronted with guys like this and it hadn’t turned out so well a few of those times but I hadn’t been hanging out with a powerful vampire then. Lestat probably would have gone on ignoring them, but he’d easily sensed the sudden flood of from the adrenals; mine and probably theirs._ _

__“Move along,” he said dismissively. “Plenty of seats for everyone.” He hadn’t even opened his eyes._ _

__I’ve noticed that there’s not much that goads certain kinds of men more than this kind of offhand indifference. The perceived slight to their masculinity seemed beyond the limits of their restraint for some reason and Lestat, in certain moods, really liked pressing this particular button._ _

__“I think I want to sit there.” The middle guy prodded my food with his. “Faggot.”_ _

__“Faggot, is it? How very original,” Lestat said, opening his eyes at last. His slow smile was deeply unsettling, thick with menace. He slid his gaze over the men. “What do you think, Brian? HGH? Or perhaps some sort of hemorrhoids cocktail?”_ _

__“You mean steroids,” I said as seriously as I was able. Two of the guys only looked befuddled but the third took the affront with a good deal of umbrage._ _

__“Yes, that’s it. Steroids,” he said amiably, maneuvering himself to a standing position. The dangerous glint was still in his eyes but he gave me a conspiratorial wink. That anticipatory trepidation I mentioned rose several degrees really quickly. He turned to the affronted one who also happened to be the largest of the three. “Are you offended? Oh, well. Nothing like offensive remarks from the faggots you’ve decided to tune up, is there? Here’s another. If you are going to inflate your body to such frankly grotesque proportions, you really should have your suits custom made. For the money you probably paid for that one, it looks like absolute shit on you.”_ _

__Biggest Man uttered an enraged glottal grunt and swung a fist the size of a ham at Lestat’s face. This was where it starts to get hard to describe: it happened fast and even though a good deal of my feel-good buzz had bled away, my reaction time was slow._ _

__The haymaker aimed at Lestat missed because by the time it should have connected Lestat was already behind the man. His head moved, blurred with speed and he battened onto the distended carotid, pulling Biggest Man to the floor as he drank. While I watched that with no small amount of avidity, one of the other men got a fist upside my head and I staggered against one of the center poles. Beyond all this concentrated activity I noticed the car had mostly emptied. Lestat was already on his feet as though nothing untoward had occurred, Biggest Man in a dazed heap at his feet. There was no sign of blood or injury that might account for his sudden weakness._ _

__“See?” Lestat whispered with a little smile. “I can control myself. No slaughter and barely any violence.” I let out a somewhat hysterical laugh which had had the effect of draining most of the excess adrenaline coursing through me. “Oh, but that’s nice,” he said, leaning forward and sniffing delicately._ _

__Medium Man shoved at Lestat. “Hey, what’d you do to him?” Smallest Man was heaving at his friend, trying ineffectually to haul Biggest Man to his feet. “Oh, he’ll be fine,” Lestat said, looking hard at Medium Man. A moment later, he moved past us jerkily to help Smallest Man and the three of them lumbered off at the next stop, casting baleful, wary glances at Lestat._ _

__He turned to me with a wide smile. “Self-control still intact. Mostly,” he said as I sat down somewhat heavily. He sat beside me. “Oh, but you smell good. You’re bleeding a little.” He brushed my hair back from my eyes and licked at the blood seeping from a cut above my eyebrow._ _

__“You always know just the right thing to say,” I said between snorts of laughter. His puzzled frown made me laugh harder. _“You smell so good--you’re bleeding.”_ I snorted again._ _

__He grinned at that.”You know what I meant.” He slid down on the hard seat and leaned his head comfortably against my shoulder._ _

____

**(Louis)**

They arrived after three, stepping from the private elevator with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. Between the two of them, Lestat appeared to be the more impaired, though not in the manner of humans; rather, his eyes were misty and half-lidded and as they drew close and he untangled himself from Brian. I smelled blood, quite fresh, tasting it in his warm kiss and so allowed myself a long moment to savor him. 

“Please tell me there is no body removal to be performed somewhere around the building.” I said to Brian. Lestat moved from my arms and drifted to the couch. I noted he was wearing his jacket but his shirt was missing.

“No, none near the building or anywhere else. He had a pretty good drink on the train back at 33rd, though, and it hit him while we rode the rest of the way. Interesting walk from Lexington, I gotta say.”

“Doubtless,” I said, watching Lestat affectionately and grasping Brian’s arm to steer him to the couch. “You must tell me all about your evening. You’re bleeding.” I brushed the hair back from his eyes and saw a little wound seeping blood just above his eyebrow.

“I thought I’d got that stopped.” Lestat said in a dreamy voice from the couch.

“May I?” 

Brian nodded and I heard his passing thought. _//yesohpleaseplease//_

I slid an arm around his waist and up his back to steady him; his body thrummed. I licked the little wound clean and the thrum echoed through me, lovely sweet blood. A little nip to my tongue and I sealed the wound. From the couch Lestat said “Let’s go to bed.”

**FIN**


End file.
